𝐍𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑.

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍:    an  independent  &  private  portrayal  of   𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍  "𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄"  𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍    from   𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓:  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐊𝐎𝐅𝐅  𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓.    based  upon  personal  headcanons,   theories  &  worldbuilding.   established  september  2016   &   remade  june  2020.    written  by  wander. exploring  themes  of:    girlhood gothic, death & the maiden, the  fairy  tale  heroine,   the  sacrificial  lamb,   manifestation of  light,   redemption  through  love,   purification through suffering   &   the  inability  to  escape  one’s  blood. content  warnings for:    human  experimentation,   child endangerment, terminal  illness,   kidnapping,   blasphemy,   body  horror,   mutilation,   excessive  gore  &  gratuitous  violence.   +18  followers  only,   please.

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which is your morality alignment?

the car radio fizzles in and out of transmission as alice turns the dial, attempting to hone in on anything besides a flurry snow of static. it's a futile effort: a few strains of a classic rock song escape the speakers before the droning grows even louder, angrier, like a hive of rattled hornets.

"jeez, alright," the young girl concedes as she pushes the 'off' button. "guess we'll just sit in silence."

long blonde hair trails over her bony shoulder as she swivels to peek over the headrest, up to the sunroof, where the stars peek through. alice lays against the headrest and admires the sky for a moment, watching the heavens revolve overhead. the night is otherwise peaceful; crickets chirp in a thicket somewhere nearby.

deciding upon boredom (a decidedly dangerous state for a teenage girl to remain in for too long), she clambers over the console to stick her nose up through the roof and catch the attention of her recent companion. the night breeze fondly ruffles the top of her head. she hasn't really gauged him yet— their acquaintance was a meeting of necessity. even so, the unknowns don't phase alice, even though sometimes the man reminds her of something right out of night of the living dead.

"miles?" she calls out. he's sitting there, pouring over something by the light of a cheap battery-powered lantern that probably originated from a hardware store some hundred miles southwest of here. in a softer tone: "hey."